


Bad Influence

by december_dream



Series: Bad Influence [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Corruption Kink, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, I guess???, No Smut, One Shot, Shiratorizawa, Slightly Out Of Character, Underage Drinking, horny undertones, i sIMP, mention of smoking, no beta we die like men, no seriously the horny undertones in this, tendou's an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/december_dream/pseuds/december_dream
Summary: This is how you would've liked your last year of high school to play out: you have minimal to no contact with Satori Tendō, keep your position as valedictorian, and go to Tokyo for your higher education. However, despite the plethora of good karma you've accumulated throughout your life, apparently you weren’t due for a pay out this year.Or maybe you were.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Reader
Series: Bad Influence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158638
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, before y'all jump in I feel like I should say I've yet to see season four, so just keep in mind that I'm only working off of info from season 3 :)

You stand at the side of the room, frozen in place as the teacher reads out the seating arrangement. You must’ve heard her wrong, so as the others sit, you approach the teacher and ask for clarification.

You _have_ to have heard wrong - for your own sake.

“Sorry, miss, could you tell me where my seat is again, I missed it when you were calling it out,” you smile politely, only to have it drop as she smiles back apologetically.

“I’m sorry, (L/n), but I’m afraid this decision was out of my hands,” she says after restating that, yes, you were in fact partners with Satori Tendō, “the principal approached me and requested the two of you be paired in an effort to bring up your partners mark; if it doesn’t he won’t be able to attend any volleyball tournaments.” 

You nod, going to take your place beside an empty seat (that was the one bright side of all this - you’d rarely see him).

It’s more than half way into class when the door is opened again, a mess of gelled crimson hair walking through the threshold and casually closing it behind him. Your breath hitches as your teacher tells him who he’s partnered with.

His bag hits the ground with a light thud, far different from the sound a bag full of school supplies should sound. He sits with his right foot on the seat of the chair, knee bent so he can rest his arm and against it. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. His posture is terrible. His tie is anything but tied, his clothes are all askew. You want nothing to do with him.

But he's your lab partner, so you have to be cordial with him.

"Hey there," you whisper as your teacher begins again, "I'm (L/n) (F/n)." You give him a polite smile and small wave as the teacher turns to face the board.

He's quiet, sniffing and lightly scratching at his temple, you pray he isn’t gearing up to make a jab at you.

One of the two reasons Tendō is so infamous is his love of teasing people that piss him off. It’s incessant, and he’s good at it too; he gets to the thing that you don't like about you in less than a glance, and regardless of how much his teammates scold him he doesn’t let up. 

"Satori Tendō," he responds, though he sounds bored. Without so much as another word, he reaches into his bag and fishes out a Shōnen Jump magazine, laying it across his desk (notably across the worksheet you were supposed to be filling out). Your smile falters, but you return to your work, diligently filling in the blank spaces on the page.

When class ends, your teacher reminds you to exchange contact information with your partners, as you will be relying on each other quite often for projects, labs, or if you miss a class (though you had a sneaking suspicion that Tendō would be relying on you rather than the other way around).

You had to make sure _Satori Tendō_ passed this course or it would reflect poorly on yourself, _and_ you had to make sure that his shenanigans didn’t drag you down with him. For five months. You deserved a medal for this.

You liked to think you were the model student - involved in two extracurriculars, good grades, almost never absent and tardy even less.

This isn't to say you're some type of nerdy, social pariah that sits alone at lunch - in fact you were fairly well known amongst your classmates at Shiratorizawa; you had a group you ate with, and most of your peers know you by name, meaning your passing periods were usually a string of hello's and waves to the people you pass. You are (on the very surface, at least) the perfect student. 

And if you're the perfect student, that would make Satori Tendō the most imperfect student. 

Satori Tendō is late to every class, full on absent more often. On the off chance he should show up to class, the entire time is spent reading a Jump magazine. Now, he doesn't sit alone at lunch either - he sits with the volleyball team, the one singular extracurricular he participates in. Everyone knows him by name for a different reason to you - it's because he's an amazing middle blocker and his relentless teasing.

Naturally, you and Satori Tendō do not mix at all - you probably never will; he's mean spirited and relishes in tormenting others, while you need everybody to like you all day long. In all honesty, Tendō makes you nervous - he's a wild card when he's not completely uninterested in what's happening. You need things to adhere to a routine, to reason- he sticks to neither of these. Satori Tendō is the definition of a bad influence.

* * *

You don’t hear from, nor do you see Tendō until more than a week after your first class. You know where you'll find him, though. Regardless of whether or not he turns up to class, he never misses a volleyball practice, and you have a large stack of papers to give him from the classes he'd missed.

The thud of volleyballs hitting the floor is more than intimidating as you peak into the gym, seeing a few familiar faces, and that unmistakable spiked red hair. Semi, one of the players you were more acquainted with, notices you first - sending you a smile and nearly being nailed in the face by one Guess Monster that had just blocked his attack. It's clear Semi wants to go off on his teammate, but restrains himself, instead excusing himself from the practice; he beckons you in, meeting you near the door.

"Awe, Semisemi, don't tell me I hurt your feelings,” Tendō calls to the setter, not bothering to look in his friends direction “it's not my fault you weren't paying attention," 

"Hey (L/n), what can I do for you?" Semi asks, brushing some of his hair from his face.

"I just came to drop off Tendō's work - he hasn't been in class, and I figured he'd be here, so..." you trail off, feeling your face run slightly hot.

Semi grimaces, sending a glare in the middle blocker’s direction; he looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel.

“Are you kidding me Tendō?” Semi shouts across the gym, making you jump slightly, and causing Tendō to actually look your way; he looks amused above all else. “You haven’t been to class in a week!” Other members are starting to look over now, along with their coach and managers.

"Yeah, and what of it?" Tendō places his hands on his hips, challenging Semi who's making his way back towards the court.

"'What of it?'" Semi uncharacteristically mocks his friend, "You know damn well that if your marks don't improve coach Washijō won't be able to do a fucking thing to keep you on the team," he seethes.

"I’m flattered, I didn’t know you thought I was such an integral member of the team," Tendō places a hand on his chest and smirks. Their argument had turned into a glaring contest. One wrong move could lead to a fight .

"Tendō, Semi, enough," Ushijima's voice booms through the gym.

You want to die. You want the gym floor to open up and swallow you whole.

"You're lucky your lab partner was nice enough to bring you your work," Semi grunts before walking off, in need of some cool down time. 

Tendō follows his friends form with his eyes, smirk still plastered on his face until his eyes land on you, smirk transforming into a scowl. Oh, you're _so_ in for relentless teasing and jabs. It takes you a moment to realize he’s walking towards you, but when you do, all you can do is hope that his teammates will be enough to keep the jabs to a minimum (though you sincerely doubt that). With a motion of his head, he silently tells you to follow him into the hallway. _There goes any protection_.

He takes the papers from your hang rather roughly, surely causing a paper cut or two based on the stinging left on your palm. He doesn’t even so much as look up as you hiss, seeing that there was in fact a sliver on the heel of your right palm, specifically just below the base of your thumb.

Where are the answers?" He asks, thumbing through as if he missed them.

"I, um," you press against at the cut, refusing to look at him, "I can't just give you the answers, Tendō." You try to keep your voice as steady as possible, but you know you failed. He scoffs.

"Why not?" You can hear the annoyance in his voice and it makes your cringe.

"Because you wouldn't learn anything."

"And why should you care? You're at the top of all your classes, surely you don't have time for this." You can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks next, "or are you just that desperate to be around someone?"

"If you don't pass it reflects poorly on me, simple as that." You mumble, feeling very small at the moment. He laughs, a crude, condescending chuckle that drips with what you can only describe as pity.

"Ah, there's your angle," he cages you against the wall, remarkably without even lifting his arms, "so I'm your little project, huh?" You want to shout at him that you, personally, couldn't care less if he failed or not, but before you can utter what would be a pathetic attempt at anger, he backs off. 

You finally look up, seeing the amusement in his eyes. Your face contorts in anger.

“Awe, I made you mad,” he sneers, bending down to your height. You want to slap him.

“Get your stuff.” You’re actually proud of how you sound - your voice doesn’t waver once and perfectly conveys how you feel: mad and done with the male before you.

“Excuse me?” He laughs, but his demeanour is quickly changing from delighted with himself to a more sour one - one that could mean trouble for you.

“Get your stuff, you’re leaving early and I’m teaching you the lessons you missed.” 

“I’m not leaving,”

“Then I’ll wait.” 

Neither of you waver for what feels like eternity, neither willing to back down. In reality, it’s not even three minutes, but Tendō finally gives, rolling his eyes. He shoves the papers back at you and you accept them, watching him re-enter the gym.

It's not until you hear Ushijima speaking to Tendō that you relax, slumping back against the wall and shakily inhaling and exhaling several times at least. You were surprised he didn't catch on to your nerves.

 _Perhaps you had even convinced yourself you were that confident_.

* * *

It's two hours until practice ends, you use the time to finish your homework for one of your other classes. Tendō seems to be in a better mood when he exits the gym, laughing and joking with, or rather _at_ an ever stoic Ushijima - it even seems like he's made amends with Semi as the redhead slings his arm around his friends shoulder. 

He doesn't scowl at you when he sees you, but his mood does noticeably drop. 

_Good_. 

He says a quick goodbye to his team before jamming his hands in his pockets and following you as you turn on your heel. He follows you without speaking for a good four blocks - you don't mind, his voice is infuriating. 

"So where exactly are you taking me?" He has his arms folded behind his head as he walks, that simple action enough to annoy you.

“My place.” You state, however, your confidence from earlier has worn off, and the Guess Monster had definitely picked up on it, judging by the click of his tongue.

He chuckles. “At least take me to dinner first.” You ignore him, instead waving to the elderly couple that you pass every afternoon as they tend to their garden.

 _That_ seems to put him in a pissy mood. Guess he doesn’t like it when he’s ignored. He’s quiet the rest of the way, only mumbling a ‘thanks’ when you hold doors open for him - so he _does_ have some manners.

“You want something to drink?” You call from the kitchen of your apartment.

“No,” his reply comes as you hear him flop into a chair - he’s given up on trying to get a rise out of you since you ignored him. You bring your glass of water with you to the table and pull out your own work from the classes he’d missed, making sure they were in order before looking to him expectantly.

“What?” 

You feel like you’ll pop a blood vessel. Instead you grit your teeth for a moment before calmly answering: “You need your papers.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling the (now crumpled) papers and a pencil. “So what’s the first blank?”

“I’m not going to just give you the answers,” you scoff, “read the sentence out loud and I’ll give you the answer to the blank when you get to it.” You lean back, arms folded over your chest, watching how his eyes narrow at you, his own rage bubbling up inside. For a second you think he’s going to blow up, and maybe, just _maybe_ , he can see the flash of anxiety that you sure as hell feel.

In a sickly sweet voice, he responds: “I’m not reading shit out loud,” it’s at this point you notice he’d pulled his Jump magazine out with his papers - mainly because he starts flipping through it, completely disregarding you.

You blink once. Twice. Thrice. Crescent shaped idents take up space on your palms, one of them digging into your paper cut from earlier. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

You take the book from his hands, placing it on the table and then your arm on top of it. Could you have crossed the line? Perhaps.

“For every topic we complete, you get five minutes of reading time. We have three topics.” You say calmly almost - _almost_ \- enjoying how his face screws up and turns the faintest red.

He huffs, beginning reluctantly with the heading of the page. “Forces...”

* * *

It’s now once a week that Tendō comes to your apartment to study. He’s finally given into your method of tutoring (now you don’t have to hold his manga hostage). You have your forces unit test this week - first test of the class.

“Newton’s first law is…” you trail off waiting for him to finish your sentence.

Tendō is too busy twirling a pencil (just because he’s accepted your tutoring doesn’t mean he’ll go down without a fight).

You clear your throat. “Tendō, what is Newton’s first law?”

“Force and acceleration,” he hums.

“Close, that’s the second law - try it again.”

He sighs in annoyance, rolling his eyes and trying again because he knows he's not leaving until he gets it right (you very nearly kept him overnight once because he refused to participate). "I don't fucking know," you cringe at his language, "Inertia?"

"That sounds more like a question than a response." 

"Well it's what I'm going with."

"Good - that's correct." You barely see it - nearly miss it, actually, but with those words his face softens, the faintest hint of pride showing through. "Alright, last question is easy - force is equal to…”

“Mass times acceleration.”

“Correct.” You put your study sheet down, eyeing him as he smirks, “Just read through the package one last time before you take the test and you should be good to go. I'm sure you'll do fine - I helped you after all."

"Don't go getting cocky, that's my thing," Tendō glares as he packs his things up, but there's no real bite to it - he would've just come right out and pointed out your insecurities if he were really upset.

He's part way down the hall when you call him from your doorway.

"Hey Tendō," he slows, but doesn't completely stop, "you've got this!" Even if you can’t stand him, you'll still wish him well - it's the polite and courteous thing to do. 

He scoffs but there's that same softness to his face as earlier. He doesn't respond, instead pushing through the doorway to the staircase.

You shut the door, cleaning up around the door where he had been digging around for his shoes. You put away the glass he was drinking from, deciding to load the dishwasher later when the dinner dishes can be added. You sit back at the table, packing your own supplies back in. The quiet is overwhelming. Actually, overwhelming is too soft of a word - it's more deafening. You can hear the passing of cars and faint conversations wafting up from the street, but it feels....detached. There should be more sound in your life. Getting up and walking through the limited rooms, you find that no matter where you stand, it sounds like there's cotton in the air. Even when you play your music, there's that feeling - that someone should be talking, at the very least. 

There should be parents asking how your day was in person, not over a text of phone call. There should be a family here.

You frown, making your way back out to the kitchen to start dinner. As you pass the table, somethings out of place - among the muted tones of the room, there's a bright splash of colour in the form of a book cover.

Tendō had left his manga here. It's too late for you to run it down to him; there's no doubt in your mind that he took off as soon as he was on the street - he was going on and on about how he was supposed to meet Semi for whatever reason, something to do with music... 

Either way, you'd have to return it tomorrow, and you wouldn't be seeing him in any classes, so you'd have to return it at lunch. There's something about approaching the volleyball third years table at lunch that sends a shiver up your spine - yes, you were fairly well acquainted with Semi and Ōhira, you'd had a few classes with Ushijima in the past, so none of them were complete strangers to you.

You just can't seem to put your finger on why you're so nervous about going up to their table. 

Glancing at the book in your hands, you peak inside. The pages are kept in pristine condition, surprising considering everything else that came out of Tendōs bag was stained or crumpled. You thumb through the pages, not entirely understanding the plots, but drawn in enough to attempt to piece something together. The art inside is beautiful - there's no denying that . As you continue through the book a page of loose leaf printer paper falls from somewhere inside. It's folded in half, and you can just barely make out the shadow of writing on the other side. 

Part of you wants to open it - Tendō shouldn't be so careless with his book if he's keeping sensitive information inside. However you also know that this is Tendō - if he found out you went through his stuff he'd be relentless. There's also the fact that despite being a jerk, he is entitled to his privacy. 

Privacy be damned, it's your house. 

Carefully unfolding the halved paper, you find what can only be described as the most organized mess you've ever seen inside.

It’s been printed on - a recipe for (and you have to read this twice, just to make sure you got it right) chocolate truffles. Surrounding the ink is graphite, whether it be hastily scribbled notes about the recipe or a doodle (some of them aren't half bad). You can’t help the singular shocked chuckle that passes your lips. Satori Tendō - resident jerk of Shiratorizawa - makes chocolate!

More laughs bubble over, until you’ve clutched your stomach and rolled onto your side - tears stream down your cheeks that you attempt to wipe away, but you're shaking so much you just end up hitting your eye. It doesn't fix the quiet in your empty apartment, but it certainly helps.

Maybe, just maybe, you'll ask him about them sometime.

* * *

Lunch comes far sooner than you would like. You want to tell yourself you sat with your regular group because you forgot you had Tendō's book with you, but you know it's because you were hoping someone would start talking to you so you had a reason not to approach the table of volleyball players inside.

"H-hey guys, I'll be right back," You announce, grabbing your bag and getting up - the walk from the tree you were all under to the cafeteria was less than a minute, the entire journey should take no more than two. But as you stand at the door, colourful book in hand, you feel like it's going to take years just to get over there.

You're wrong, of course, and Tendō's looking at you with a mix of expectation and boredom.

"You, uh, you left this last night." You shove the book at him lightly. His eyes widen a touch, but he's good at hiding it. He hums a thank you, flipping through the pages and closing it was a satisfied look behind his eyes.

He hasn't even put the book away when you're walking back to the courtyard.

"(L/n)," Ōhira calls as you leave, "you wanna eat with us today?" You freeze slightly at his request, turning around and getting ready to say that you really should be getting back your friends, but Tendō opens his stupid mouth before you can.

"It's not like your group'll miss you or anything," he says, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head.

"Tendō," Semi says in a warning tone.

You should say that you'd expected this of him - for another one of these jabs to come. But you didn't and it stings. You’re quiet, trying to ignore that drop in your gut because it means that his words have an actual effect on you. 

"I hate you," You say - not shout, not whisper; it's a statement. You hate the way your voice cracks at the end of it, but you're not giving him another chance to comment. You're back in the courtyard. 

You sit back down under the tree you had been under previously.

"Oh, (L/n)," a boy across and to your left says, "I didn't even notice you leave." 

The chorus or agreements stings worse than Tendō 's words, but you laugh, saying you had to use the washroom. You don't speak to Tendō until he sits at your dining table a week later.

He doesn't make a jab the entire way home and you briefly wonder if the phrase 'crossed the line' exists in his vocabulary. “Thank you for bringing my magazine back,” 

You don’t respond.

He starts reading.

You know he’s too proud to apologize. That doesn’t stop you from wanting one.

He can’t help the pain he feels when your voice is monotone upon giving him the answer to a blank. Maybe he hates himself a little more today.

It's well over two weeks until you speak to him unprompted.

"Your handwriting improved," you say as if you hadn't been ignoring him all these weeks. He's never heard anything softer, despite the blandness of your voice. He's never making you hate him again - no matter how much he doesn't deserve it, he'll allow himself to be greedy with your voice; he’ll never get enough of it. 

He’ll allow himself to be greedy with you.

He’ll never get enough of you.

"Uh, thanks," he can't help the way he stutters. 

That was when Tendō realized he was royally fucked.

* * *

You still haven't fully forgiven him, mostly because of how true his words ring everyday at lunch when you're talked over or unintentionally ignored. You don't even know why you still sit with them - it became clear in your second year that you weren't a staple part of the group like some of the others were. Maybe it's because of the safety routine brings: if you're sitting here, in this courtyard, under this tree, it's familiar, you know what it will bring. You know you'll make small talk with one or two people about the weather or your classes until you have to go, and maybe some people will say goodbye, but if they don't it's fine because it's _always_ been like this and you can't complain now because -

"(L/n)!" Semi calls from the cafeteria doors as he begins jogging over to you. Of course, there goes your routine; now you're the centre of attention because, holy shit, a member of the volleyball team was talking to you and apparently none of them had heard about the fact that you stopped by their practices to wait for Tendō once a week (it's not like you haven't told them...).

You get up, meeting him part way to not embarrass yourself further.

"Tendō just got his test back - the forces one " 

You nod, finding yourself nervous to find out what the results may be.

"He got an eighty!" Semi's beaming and you find your heart swelling. "We're taking him out to celebrate after practice - you should come with us, you're the whole reason he did this well." You're slightly taken aback - someone was asking you to hang out? And it wasn't an obligation for school? You don't believe it. There's that lack of routine that's nagging at you, telling you to just go home and do your work.

Unfortunately you listen to the feeling.

"I-I'd really like to, but I have a test coming up that I should study for." 

"Awe, that's too bad," Semi says, genuinely seeming disappointed, "maybe next time?"

"Yeah, sure, ne-next time," You smile and sit back down, your entire group looking at you.

"You know Semi?" the girl to your right asks.

"Yeah, I know him through Tendō, really..." you scratch at the back of your neck and try to ignore that sting that comes back when a girl across from you gasps.

"You know Tendō Satori?"

* * *

"Semi told me about your score. Good job." You say, a smile gracing your face for the first time since before you’d told him that you hated him. It’s been over three weeks since the incident - very nearly a month.

“Semisemi told me you skipped out on the after party - any particular reason?” He knows that if he looks up at that damn smile he’ll be a mess, so he’ll settle for a quick glance… for now, at least. Even seeing it for a split second, he can tell there's something behind it - they don’t call him the Guess Monster for nothing

“I had to study.”

 _Bull shit_. He knows it is. But he won’t risk you getting upset with him again and leaves it be with a simple ‘ah’ before getting into his work. He knows lunch would become enjoyable for you if you just ate with the volleyball team - they actually wanted to get to know you.

“You’re coming with us next time,” he states, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it.

“I told Semi I would if I wasn’t busy,” you reply, taking out your pencil. Tendō knows you aren’t going to write with it - you started doing this when you were first upset at him, to keep yourself civil: you’d hold the pencil between your middle and pointer finger, almost like a cigarette (the thought of you smoking was one Tendō was _very_ fond of). Then you’d slightly wiggle your middle finger, making the pencil bounce from left to right, ricocheting off your thumb.

You do just that.

“You gonna start reading?” You ask, pulling Tendō from whatever he was thinking about.

“Right - projectile motion…”

An hour and two reading breaks later, he’s caught up.

“Is it really that much work showing up to class?” You ask, causing him to look up from the pocket folder he was stuffing his work into (he’d bought it thinking it’d make you happy he wasn’t just stuffing things into his bag anymore). “You wouldn’t have to spend so much time here if you showed up a couple times.”

“Maybe I like spending time with you,” he sends you this grin - one that shouldn’t make your heart beat so fast, but here we are.

“Seriously, you could spend more time with your friends if you showed up to, like, two more classes than usual.” You're back to flicking your pencil back and forth and he wonders if he’s pushing it. He debates it - opening up to you.

_Fuck it._

He gives himself a moment, finishing with his folder and putting it in his bag. He’s nervous, God damn it he can’t stop his fucking leg from bouncing. He lightly scratches at his temple.

“When I was younger,” he clears his throat, feeling too fragile to meet your eyes and uncomfortably warm, “when I was younger, class time wasn’t exactly ‘fun’ for me - school in general, actually. The other kids were jealous of my, uh, my dashing good looks.” He’s drumming against his thigh too, now. “They were pricks, but man if they didn’t make me feel like shit. School is just associated with dread at this point.” He figures he can leave out the part about some of it still sticking with him, because you’re such a pretty little thing and he doesn’t want you getting worry lines over an asshole like him. “Volleyball was the only thing I could beat them at - that’s why I never miss a practice. ‘Course it doesn’t hurt that that’s where my friends are,” he finally glances at you, “most of ‘em at least.”

Okay, maybe it’s nice to have him call you his friend.

He figures, based on your body language that he’s gotten oh so good at reading, he’s allowed to ask you a question that will make you slightly uncomfortable. “Why do you eat lunch with them?” He watches the pencil between your fingers pause before becoming a blur of motion again. You haven’t pushed him away. “Ōhira and Semi invite you to eat with us all the time - they wanna get to know you, believe it or not.” _I wanna get to know you._

“Because it’s safe,” your voice isn’t much louder than a whisper as you stare at the table, “it’s been like this for three years now - it’s routine.” Your pencil begins to slow and he worries you might cry. “I guess if I don’t sit with them, it really means I wasted these past three years; no one wants to make new friends in year three, you have less than a year before going your separate ways. Not sitting with them means I have no one…” It’s quiet - not the deafening one that fills the space when… well, when Tendōs not around, but a vulnerable quiet. It’s a weird thought - one you won’t permit yourself to act on - but you have the overwhelming urge to hug him or have him hold you back. You know he’s staring, so you put on a smile. “It also beats hanging around with you volleyball losers.” You remove any indication of sadness from yourself despite knowing he’ll still be able to read you like a Jump magazine. You don’t need him getting concerned over you.

He doesn’t push it, placing his hand on his chest and feigning hurt. “Oh, how your words wound me, (L/n).” Your name sounds nice rolling off his tongue. 

You’d like to hear him use your real name, you think.

* * *

You’ve never been more frustrated. You’re trying to tell your friends about this movie you’d watched over the weekend, and the keep fucking talking over you. You’d enjoyed the movie so much, you just wanted to tell them about it. To be frank, you feel like tears are going to start brimming any moment now - you have half a mind to just get up and sit by yourself somewhere else, but you know you can’t.

“Hey,” a single word makes every conversation in the group come to a halt, not that you notice, with how stuck in your head you are. “Earth to (L/n),” they call again.

Your head snaps up, eyes landing on Tendō - hands stuffed in his pockets, tie slightly less askew than normal.

“Get your stuff.”

“Huh?” You cock your head to the side and Tendō has to look away for a second.

“Get your stuff, you’re eating with us.” He’s being a jackass and you want to knock him down a peg, but there's that softness behind his eyes. “C’mon, if you take any longer, I’ll get Semi out here and we’ll drag you away from these dregs by force.” You want to tell him off for insulting your friends, but you can’t find the energy to defend the people you eat with. “C’mon, you can tell us about that movie you watched the other night.” He flashes you a smile, a contagious one at that, because now you're smiling too.

Does it hurt when no one asks you to stay? Yeah, a bit. But Tendō’s pulling you through the lunch room, and the cheer from the boys volleyball team when you cross into their line of sight more than makes up for it.

Maybe it’s not too late to make some new friends.

Tendō knows he’ll be on the receiving end of some light teasing in the locker room later - he knows his face is the same crimson colour as his hair; he just hopes you don’t see it.

“So what was that movie you watched?” Tendō asked from beside you, poking at his food.

“Oh, it was _Agora_ , it’s a few years old.” You have this smile on your face and Tendō feels like he’s going to melt.

“Hey, I’ve seen that,” Ōhira says.

Tendō isn’t quite sure of what you two are talking about - he’s sure it’s the movie, but the words are going in one ear and out the other because he just can’t get over how you look when you’re beaming over something you enjoy.

Semi’s totally going to call him on it later.

* * *

It’s not weird - sitting at the table without Tendō. The conversation flows just the same. He’s off taking a make up for the kinematics test he missed, your teacher had agreed to mark it that same lunch period. Ōhira and Semi are arguing over the best album of a band you didn’t catch the name of while you and Ushijima are having a pleasant conversation about house plants.

Someone pulls out the chair beside you, uncharacteristically calm as he sits. It’s Tendō and he’s holding papers to his chest. You recognize the back of it. It’s the test. All conversation at the table ceases. 

“So,” your voice is full of hope, “how’d you do?”

Tendō’s breathing is steady and you think that maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s disappointed in his mark - that thought makes your heart crack.

He lets the suspense hang in the air, like the dramatic shit he is. Then, with a deep breath, he speaks.

“Well,” the hint of a smirk, “I got a ninety-three.” The stack of papers comes away from his chest, and the red pen on the front shows that he did, in fact, get nearly perfect. There's more silence that hangs in the air after his reveal.

Semi and Ōhira are cheering at the top of their lungs, the latter very unlike his usual self; Ushijima even looks proud. People are looking over at the commotion - trying to get a look at what's happening.

You can’t speak. There’s words going a mile a minute in your mind, but none will leave your mouth. Any other day and you would’ve wiped that dumb smirk off his face, but the way he’s looking at you, smug with pride behind his eyes - all you can do is sit there and process the fact that Tendō got a ninety- _fucking_ -three!

“What’s the matter - did I top your score?” There he is. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“I’m proud of you, I just couldn’t think of the right words.” It’s not wrong to want to hug him, right? “And I hate to break it to you, but I’ve still got a better mark than you.” 

“Whatever you say, _princess_ ,” his mouth moves faster than his brain.

He’s mortified. Semi and Ōhira are glancing at each other trying to contain their laughter.

And _you_. You feel like you're running the highest fever of your life- you're sure that Tendō can read the fluster in your features.

He does, of course, and suddenly all he can think about is how it could become additive. He recovers quickly, that smug look coming back as he leans back in his chair. "Hey, I like the sound of that - what d'you say, _princess_ , have we found your nickname?"

You can't deny that you love it - if you did, you'd be telling the biggest lie of your life. "Fuck off," you murmur, hiding your face in your hands.

Tendō loses it.

"So you _can_ curse!" He's giddy and his laugh is only making you warmer but you don't want him to stop.

Semi is your saving grace. "So, are we having another celebration Friday after practice - my parents are out of town for their anniversary." Tendō is quick to shift focus - starting to go on and on about how _yes_ , this is absolutely a call for celebration. You glance at him when you start to cool off. Despite the fluorescents he looks almost angelic. He notices your stare (of course he does - he can always tell when it's your eyes on him) and he winks, never once ceasing his words with Semi. 

All you can do is fold your arms on the table and hide your face.

“So I’ll pick you up at, like, seven?” You peak out from behind your arms, looking up at Tendō. He still looks smug, but if you didn’t know any better you’d say there was a hint of nervousness.

Your brain is screaming not to - you’ve got a nice routine going, one that you can enjoy; going out could ruin it. But it’s Tendō, how can you say no to him?

“O-okay,” he beams at you and you think you might have to bury your face again.

You're screwed. You're so royally fucked.

* * *

You’re sitting on a couch in Semi’s basement. It’s damp and dark(with the exception of the light that the tv’s emitting), but it has the strangest sense of home to it. Maybe you wouldn’t mind hanging around here sometimes. Tendō’s beside you, beer in hand and poking fun at Ōhira for something, while Semi’s bringing the last of the drinks downstairs with Ushijima’s help - speaking of, the stone faced man had volunteered to stay sober tonight to make sure nothing got too out of hand.

“Hey, (L/n), you want something to drink?” Semi holds a can out to you. You really shouldn’t. You _really_ shouldn't, because you’ve never done this and you have no tolerance.

Everyones more than surprised when you take the can, popping the tab of a gin and tonic.

There's something about you accepting the drink from Semi and chugging half of it, whining slightly when it stings your throat. Tendō thinks he might just die. 

Alcohol tastes awful. You will genuinely never understand why people drink so much of it for a reason other than getting hammered. But you feel your nerves dissipating and the whoop Semi and Ōhira give you is more than enough to make you feel fine; in fact you feel more than fine. You wonder if it’s just your head, or if the alcohol’s really hit you _that_ fast (let’s be honest, it’s the former), but suddenly there's giggles bubbling up and past your lips.

 _She’s a total lightweight_ is the only thing Tendō can bring himself to think as you fall into his side, laughs still pouring from you. He wants nothing more than to throw his arm around you, or to swallow your giggles, or-

He shakes his head out as subtly; he won’t let his thoughts go _there_ , at least not in front of other people, let alone you. He thinks you’re going to be the death of him, and he doesn’t mind. He’s ripped from his thoughts when another cheer sounds through the room - you’ve just finished the can. Your body's already convulsing with more laughter and it’s music to his ears; he thinks that smile on your face might just be the prettiest thing he’ll ever see. He has to chug his own drink just to keep himself in check - this causes Semi and Ōhira to chug theirs too. Before he knows it, you’re shooting upright and he misses the warmth on his arm. Semi passes you another drink despite the fact that you finished yours less than five minutes ago. You open it instantly, some of it fizzing out and over the side making you yelp.

“To Tendō!” You cheer, hoisting the drink in the air as the others mimic you - Ushijima even raises his glass of water. You glance back at him and you swear he’s gone ruby red; he can’t meet your gaze. “I knew you could do it!” And with that you throw your head back, bringing the can to your lips.

You’re going to be a mess by the time tonights over.

He hates that he was right. 

You're all giggly, hanging off of him and he tries to fish your house keys out of your pockets. Ōhira had passed out and hour ago and Semi was getting ready to jump off the roof - Tendō figured the least he could do for Ushijima is his nearly sober state was take care of you, but the way you’re hanging off him like you’re with him… that's a pain he doesn’t need to feel ever again; because how could you ever love him?

“Tendō,” you draw out his name, punctuating it with a laugh.

That hurts. He finally finds your keys and pushes your door open, shutting it once he’s coerced you to come inside. He doesn’t want to leave you alone, knows he shouldn’t especially because you could throw up at any point.

“Tendō, ‘m hungry,” you fall back onto your couch, one of your legs hooking over the back of it.

“We ate at Semi’s,” he’s shuffling to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filing it with water for you. He won’t lie and say his breath didn’t hitch when he saw you sprawled out like that, but he definitely won’t admit to it either. He squats in front of you, holding the glass to you.

You down it, going right back to whining. “But that was like… forever ago! What ‘bout that chocolate recipe you have!” 

_Huh, so you did find the paper when he left his magazine by accident_. “Trust me, all you need right now is sleep,” he knows he shouldn’t but he runs his fingers through your hair, “c’mon, go put your pyjamas on.”

Your eyes shut and a lazy grin spreads across your face. “Wanna,” - you pause to hiccup - “wanna help me?”

He wants to die. His fingers stop and he just wants to die or start bawling. All he can do is help you up and ignore the pain that spreads through his entire body. He places you on your bed and disregards the fact that this is his first time in your room as he peeks inside your closet, looking for your pyjamas.

Your hands come up and squish his cheeks before he can leave. “C’mon Tendō! I wanna see your - _hic_ \- pretty smile!” 

He knows he should stay but he can’t. Placing a bowl besides your bed (because Lord knows you’ll need it in the morning), he tears his face from your hands and walks out your bedroom door. Once he’s sure you’re asleep, he leaves.

If he weren’t so sober, he’d call Ushijima and cry. But he is sober, so he cries alone.

You don’t remember a thing come morning.

* * *

It’s been a while since your first hangover; that didn’t stop you from going to Semi’s and getting hammered whenever Tendō got a good mark, though - it was an excuse to be around him and not feel like your nerves are going haywire. The biggest one to date had been after the science exam - mostly to drown out the fact that you didn’t have an excuse to invite him to your house anymore - and every time, he tucks you in and every time he cries the whole walk home. 

It dawns on you one day, that you’ve never been to one of his volleyball games. Dawns on you isn’t the correct term - Ōhira points it out as Semi shoves a shirt into your hands.

“You’ve never seen us play,” Ōhira says one lunch. Tendōs not there, he’s… well you’re not sure where he’s run off to.

“What are you talking about?” You ask through a mouthful of food before swallowing, “I watch you guys practice all the time.”

“Exactly,” Semi says, fishing around for something in his bag, “you watch us practice, you’ve never seen us play an actual, genuine game of volleyball.”

“I would like it if you came to our next match,” Ushijima spoke up for the first (and probably last) time since he’d sat down.

“We all would,” Semi says, shoving a maroon and white folded shirt at you, “it’s the Miyagi prefecture finals.”

“Plus, you’re the reason Tendō’s able to go!” Ōhira adds, taking a sip from his juice carton. 

“I-I guess,” you put the shirt in your bag as one redhead takes his usual place beside you. 

That’s how you ended up in the nosebleeds of the arena wearing an imitation of Tendō’s volleyball shirt, a hush having fallen over the crowd. A whistle blows. You’re looking down at the court, not believing what’s happened; there’s no way Karasuno won. You lean against the rail, eyes darting from friend to friend before landing on Tendō.

“Oh, Tendō…” all you can manage is a whisper as your brows furrow. He’s staring at the court, but he looks eerily calm. He says something and you don’t know what it is - all you want to do is hop the rail and hold him. The other half of the arena erupts in cheers, and you know it’s in good nature, but you can’t help that it annoys the living crap out of you. It seems unfair, to have half the people on the court have their greatest dreams come true while the other half has theirs shattered.

You find them all in the parking lot after the ceremony. You run over to them without a second though. You’re getting ready to throw your nerves out the window and just _fucking_ hug Tendō - you just want to tell him that it’s okay, that they did their best; that _he_ did his best.

Tendō sees you coming. The others have boarded already. He knows that if you hug him he’s done for. He’ll spill his guts - cry and tell you that he’s hopelessly in love with you. He reacts the only way he knows how when he’s scared; he lashes out.

“I swear, if you say we did a good fucking job…” His brain is screaming at him to stop - that you’ll never speak to him again and it’ll be so, _so_ much worse than before.

The malice in his voice is enough to make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I know you’re desperate to convince yourself you haven’t wasted the past three years, but you’ve gotta stop clinging to us - you’re pathetic.” He doesn’t know what he saying - things you told him in confidence were being used against you and he wants to punch himself or have you hit him or for _something_ to snap him out of whatever fucking trance he’s in

And then you’re saying those damned words he never wanted to hear again - only there's more spite to them and there's tears staining your cheeks; you’re not holding back this time. “I fucking hate you.” He worries there may be no coming back from this but he just scoffs, getting on the bus.

“You’re an idiot,” Semi says as Tendō takes his seat, and he couldn’t agree more.

_Farewell, my paradise._

* * *

He doesn’t realize just how royally he’s screwed until after the weekend. 

You’re back to sitting in the courtyard, that painfully compliant look plastered across your face. But the way he lights up when you enter the dining hall - he doesn’t even try to hide it. He doesn’t notice the folded shirt in your hand until it’s presented to Semi.

“I appreciate the thought, but I can’t wear this.” It’s that same monotone voice from the first time around. Tendō swears your eyes are red.

Semi nods, taking it and putting it on the table.

Before you leave, you bow slightly. “Thank you for letting me eat with you, even if it was short lived.” It’s for everyone but Tendō - they all know it.

You don’t acknowledge him. You leave.

Semi kicks his shin under the table. “I know I’ve already called you an idiot, so I figured I’d call you a moron this time.” He holds up the shirt and it unfolds on its own - maroon and white. There's a five smack in the middle and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“You should apologize.” Ushijima recommends, but it feels like more of a command.

* * *

He waits two more days. The walk from the school to your apartment is awful, made worse by the fact that practice was called off today - it’s raining too. He wonders, briefly, if it’s better this way - for you to hate him and fall back into your routine; but then he remembers that he’s an asshole, and assholes are greedy. 

Waiting for you to open the door is even worse - he’s standing there, soaked to the bone, hair in his face because of course the rain washed away the gel in his har. But eventually, you do - it’s just a crack, just enough to see who’s there.

“Hey princess,” he doesn’t mean for it to come out like that - breathy and full of what he can only describe as pain. Had he been holding his breath? You open the door a little more - enough to stick your head out. He feels so, so much worse when your puffy, bloodshot eyes come into view.

“What the fuck do you want?” 

“I, uh, I made you something,” he swings his sopping wet bag from his shoulder, digging through it and pulling out a white box, “you were drunk and you probably don’t remember saying it but you said you wanted to try them, so,”

“A gift doesn’t make up for you being a jackass.”

“I know.”

Silence fills the hall. Tendō can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

He thinks he’s crying.

“You wanna come in? Dry off, maybe?” Your voice is softer, less venomous. It feels like home to Tendō. You’ve been stuck in that awful silence for days, the one that envelops the entire space when he’s not there. 

He’s sure he’s crying when he sits on your couch because you purse your lips and disappear for a second, coming back with water for him. He hates that you’re this nice. You won’t sit beside him, but he’ll deal because at least you’re near him.

“Tendō?” He almost doesn’t hear you, that's how quiet you are. 

“Yeah?” He rubs at his face, trying to rid it of any tears, but they keep flowing.

“I think I love you.” You’re nervous, border-lining on scared, knees are tucked to your chest as a defensive measure, but it does nothing. 

Tendō can’t believe it. Had he been holding his glass, it surely would’ve hit the floor and shattered. He wants to say something, but he can’t form words - he can’t even think; so, he moves without thinking. His hands on the back of your neck and he’s pulling you closer.

His lips are chapped, rough from chewing on them and lack of lip balm; on anyone else it would’ve been unpleasant. Your hands go to his cheeks, thumbs brushing away any remaining tears, and this time it’s nice; this time it doesn’t fill him with dread. His skin is cold and sticky from the rain he’d walked through and you’re sure his hair’s dripping all over the place but you can’t find it in yourself to care. The kiss itself is off centre - he’d rushed in and you’re both too content to fix it; it’s needy and desperate because that's what the both of you are - needy and desperate. You’re first to pull away, but you’re not letting go that easy - your hands remain on his cheeks, like you’d done so many times but don’t remember.

Tendō leans into your touch, lips pressing to the heel of your right palm for a moment as his fingers fiddle with the shirt of your uniform. “You’re a bad influence on me, you know,” his voice is soft - ethereal, even. You don’t think you’ll ever hear it enough, let alone grow tired of it. “You made me all mushy.” You let out a breathy laugh. You think he’s the closest thing to an angel on Earth. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” You press your lips to the tip of his nose. He’s never letting you go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope y'all enjoyed. I'm a major Tendō simp and I loved writing this.  
> If enough people ask I'll probably write a smut but idk.


End file.
